Marcy & Kastet
Kastet
I was standing on the cracked corner of this street, listening to the city hum, when I heard a tune that sounded like this place before the war. It made me think of all the stories that still live in the walls—what do you think, Marcy?
Marcy
Ah, the walls breathe the past, don't they? They hold memories like a lullaby that never ends. It feels like stepping into an old story, where every crack whispers a secret. I'm glad you heard it.
Kastet
They sure do, kid. These cracks ain't just dust, they're a damn map of who we are. I'm glad you heard it.
Marcy
Yes, each crack is a little heartbeat of the street, a soft reminder that even the worn paths still carry the stories we leave behind. It’s comforting to know we’re still listening, still learning from the echoes that surround us.
Kastet
You hit the mark. These cracks keep the beat of the streets. We listen, we learn, and we keep the fight alive.
Marcy
The city’s hum feels like a quiet lullaby, echoing in the cracks that still hold our stories. It’s a gentle reminder that we’re part of something bigger, that every step we take keeps the song alive.
Kastet
Yeah, those cracks keep the beat. We keep walking, keep fighting, and that’s how the song stays alive.
Marcy
I hear that rhythm too, like a soft drum in the dust, and I keep feeling the pulse in my chest whenever I walk this way. It’s the quiet courage that keeps the song alive.
Kastet
You feel that drum, huh? That’s the only thing that keeps us from falling into the silence. Keep it tight, keep it loud.